


The elephant in the room

by Tipofmytongue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, F/M, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Marriage, Sex, Shame, Unrequited Love, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipofmytongue/pseuds/Tipofmytongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John fights with Mary, he fights with his feelings and he feels that he's drifting further and further away from Sherlock. But something strange happens with their friendship during a case at The Blue Elephant Theatre. And what the hell is going on at 221B Baker Street a particular Thursday afternoon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The elephant in the room

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother language.   
> Please bear with me!  
> Feel free to leave a feedback and check out my other works as well.

"Case.   
Need a Doctor’s opinion.  
Are you available?   
SH"

John looked down at his phone. His stomach was exited over having received a text from Sherlock – finally – but at the same time he was quite astounded by its formality. He’d stopped signing his texts to John with SH a long time ago.   
John typed back quickly. 

"I’m always available.   
When and where?"

A few minutes went by and John did nothing but looking down at his phone, waiting for a reply. Finally it came.

"Now.  
Blue Elephant Theatre.   
Camberwell.   
SH."

John replied again. 

"I’ll be there in 30.   
PS: You don’t have to be so formal." 

John figured Sherlock wouldn’t reply to that, so he changed into a better outfit, pocketed his phone and went to get the 40 bus.   
When he arrived at the bus station near the tiny little theatre he noticed that Sherlock indeed had replied him. 

"Sorry.   
I’m a cock sucking dickhead.   
SH (Shitty Hole)"

John gaped at the screen, eyes so wide they almost stretched his skin to new painful lengths. As he read it he felt something behind him, and then heard Sherlock’s familiar voice in his ear.   
“Attempt to be funny. You said you wanted less formality.”  
“Sherlock, shit. Hi. You scared me.”  
“Glad you could come so quickly.”  
“Of course, always.” John said.   
John leaned forward and gave Sherlock a hug. A tiny moment of embarrassment arose between them. John cut the hug short.   
“Sorry.”  
“What for?” Sherlock asked.   
“I know you’re not the typical hugger.”  
“I always make exceptions for my blogger. Now, shall we?”  
John smiled as they walked toward the Blue Elephant Theatre.   
“How did you know I was on the 40 bus?”  
“Please, you ought to know me by now.”  
“Yeah, although, that last text did startle me a bit.”  
“I thought it might. I guess there still are secrets you haven’t penetrated yet.” Sherlock said with a slight smile. John was taken aback by Sherlock’s choice of words, but didn’t reply, as the Blue Elephant Theatre became visible in front of them. It was surrounded by police cars and cordons. Sherlock, being Sherlock, ignored the cordon and entered. John followed.   
Sherlock led the way to the stage where John was shocked to find a body lying in its centre. Lestrade and Donovan were standing behind it.  
“John, nice to see you. Long time, no show. Were have you been?” Lestrade said and walked over to shake John’s hand.  
“Nowhere. Mary and I have been working out some things. Taking some time off the world you may say.”  
“Well, glad you’re here. This is a tricky one.”  
“Yeah, Sherlock said you needed a Doctor.”  
“Yes.” Sherlock answered before Lestrade could open his mouth. “He’s supposedly been dead for three hours, the matinee started at two o’clock and he was killed during the show, about half an hour into the play. Now, if you take a look at this, you may see that these wounds were made post-mortem, as they haven’t bled. Which leads me to believe that he was dead before the play started. But, everyone who saw it claims he was on stage from the very beginning.”  
“Fucking hell.” John said.  
“Can you verify his time of death?”  
John sat down next to the body and did his usual examination, and after some minutes he rose again with a conclusion clear as the light of day.   
“He’s been dead for at least 24 hours.”  
This time it was Lestrade’s turn to curse. “Fucking hell.”  
“Yep. You see these markings. He was probably strangled to death.”  
“Well, that’s crazy!” a voice said. John turned around and saw a man in his young thirties emerge from the wings. He was wearing a black suit with a turquoise shirt.   
“Crazy is what you might call it.” Sherlock answered. His gaze was fastened on the man who had just arrived.   
“Who are you?” John asked, puzzled.   
“Oh, sorry.” Sherlock said. “John, this is Daniel. He was a dancer in the play during which this death occurred. He was a first hand witness. Daniel, this is Dr. John Watson, a co-worker of mine through many years.”  
“… and best friend.” John said avariciously as the two of them shook hands.   
“Nice to meet you.” Daniel said with a broad smile. “I’ve heard about you.”  
Sherlock cut them both across and turned to Lestrade.   
“Well, I’ve got all I wanted. I’ll bring my samples to Molly first thing in the morning.”   
“Not doing an all-nighter, then?” John asked. This didn’t seem like Sherlock at all.   
“Nope, not this time. Night to you, Lestrade. Donovan.”

John, Sherlock and Daniel the dancer left the room and found themselves outside of the theatre after a couple of minutes. John wasn’t ready to part ways yet. He knew what was waiting for him back home. Fighting, fighting and even more fighting. Him and Mary were in the darkest of places right now, even worse off than they were after she’d shot Sherlock.   
“Wanna go for a drink or something?” John tried, looking at Sherlock. He saw immediately that Sherlock hesitated; a small look of guilt roamed his face for a second.  
“I’m sorry, John. I’m busy tonight.”  
“Oh. Right. Of course.”   
“I’ll text you this weekend.”   
Sherlock patted John on the shoulder. Then nothing happened. They all stood there like they were frozen to the ground in some badly directed play. After about fifteen seconds, after having looked at one another, all three of them, John broke the record-breaking awkward silence.  
“I thought… Oh. Yeah, well, I’ll just go then.”   
He started leaving, but before he’d gone far, he heard Sherlock approach him from behind.   
“I’ve got an hour to spare.”  
John smiled broadly.   
“Thank you.”

They found a little café nearby and ordered two coffees. John was so happy that he was with Sherlock again. Somehow his marriage had become an obstacle, keeping him from being together with Sherlock. Keeping him from doing regular best friend things.   
“So, John, how are you?”  
John was always honest with Sherlock, and seeing that they only had an hour he went straight for the bad stuff.   
“My marriage sucks.” he said.   
“That’s hardly surprising.”   
“Well, it’s worse now than ever. Mary and I are fighting about absolutely everything.”  
“Hmm… Why?”  
“Why? I don’t know why.” John said, and started telling Sherlock about all the fights they’d had during the last three weeks. During John’s monologue Sherlock’s phone vibrated.  
“Excuse me.” Sherlock said and looked down at the screen. John noticed a tiny smile appear upon his face.  
“Anything special?” John asked.   
“No. Nothing special.” Sherlock answered. “But I will have to go quite soon. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me?”  
“What? I… I want to spend time with you. You’re my best friend. And I haven’t seen you in ages.”  
“23 days.”  
“Yeah…”  
“I’m sorry. Your marriage will work itself out. I’m sorry I haven’t got anything better to say, but I have to go now. But I’ll text you about the weekend, okay?” Sherlock said, trying to sound comfortable, but clearly wasn’t. There was a tension in the air between them. Sherlock phone vibrated again, but he ignored it this time.   
“Yeah, I’ll see you.” John said, leaned toward Sherlock with an invitation to a hug. Sherlock accepted and they hugged a bit longer than friends normally do. 

When he came home John was met with the level of fighting which he had predicted beforehand. Mary was rolling her eyes at him as he explained to her that Sherlock had asked him to help out on a case.   
“Oh, right, it’s always Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock with you!”  
“If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t talked to Sherlock in three weeks. Until today.”  
“No, and you’ve been unpleasant as hell because of it.”  
“No, I’ve been unpleasant as hell because you’ve been picking fights over socks and detergent and God knows what. I’m sick of it.”  
“Well, if you could use the right detergent for the right colours then I wouldn’t have to nag about it, now would I?”  
“Mary.” John said in a calm voice. “Would you be a dear and keep your voice down? Our daughter should not be hearing this.”  
Mary went silent.   
“No, you’re right. Sorry.”  
“Good.”  
“John. I’m sorry. I am.” Mary said and put one of her hands at John’s forearm. “I just feel like we’ve been drifting apart, and the only times I see the John I fell in love with is when you’re with Sherlock. You’re happy when you’re with him. You’re not with me.” Mary looked at him with big watery eyes. He loved those eyes. Used to. Wasn’t quite sure any more.   
“I know. Maybe we could do something fun together. Or something.”  
“Yeah, we could have Mrs. Hudson look after Lily, and we can go away this weekend.”   
“Yeah. Only, this weekend is no good. Sherlock and I are going to do something together.”  
“You’re shitting me, right?”  
“What?”  
“You know, it’s biologically impossible for me to miraculously grow a dick and long, black curls. I can’t do magic.”  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  
“You know perfectly well what it means.” Mary said, turned on her heel and left the room. John was shaking with anger and frustration. He thought of the things Mary had said, but his head had imploded into a chaos of resentment, so he wasn’t able to understand any of his thoughts. He lay down on the sofa, where he’d already slept during the last two weeks. The evening was still young; the clock was only seven, so he watched crappy TV for five hours before he fell into a sleep filled with disturbances.

The days that led up to the weekend were horrible. Mary refused to even talk to John, and John had no idea why. Their last fight had been such a childish one that neither of them seemed to want to address the other person. They only interacted when something was regarding Lily, and even then their tone was cold and distanced. John was sure Lily would pick up on it, despite her young age of two. He felt ashamed.   
When Friday finally came John was almost tiptoeing around in the clinic. Finally he would be able do leave this ordinary life of his, and join Sherlock in his hunt, if only for a few days. But Friday came and went. John left the clinic with a disappointed ton in his stomach. When he came home he texted Sherlock, even if it was supposed to be the other way around. 

"So, weekend’s here.   
Wanted to meet up?  
I have some theories on the case." 

An hour went by and there was no reply from Sherlock. John sat down at the kitchen table and started solving a crossword. He needed to occupy his mind. He could feel Mary’s gaze burn him from the sofa. At nine, Sherlock replied. 

"Sorry, John.   
Case already solved.   
Victim’s twin brother had a   
murderous ambition to become  
an actor, and killed his brother  
for that very reason. Idiotic.   
They are all such drama queens.   
Turns out I’m busy this weekend.   
What about the end of next week?  
You could drop by Baker St.   
SH. (Sacred Horse)"

Even the joke at the end of the text didn’t lift John’s mood. He’d always counted on Sherlock. Sherlock never stood him up. Leave him at occasional crime scenes, sure, but never stand him up. He thought for a long time, then texted back. He decided to be honest. 

"That was bad news.   
(Not that you cracked the case though,  
that’s good news. Can’t wait to hear  
more about it.)  
I’ll be counting the days until   
the end of next week.   
When precisely do you want me to come?  
I miss you." 

Seven minutes went by, and John did nothing but staring at his phone. A short reply ticked in.

"I miss you too."

No joke, no answer to when John was supposed to come. He wondered what the hell was going on. Sherlock was his rock. The strongest pillar in his life, the one he could always depend on. And now, as things with Mary were as shitty as they were, he really needed his rock.   
Mary looked up at him again.   
“What’s going on? You look like someone murdered your cat.”  
“Sherlock’s busy this weekend.”  
“And now you’re heartbroken.”  
“Jesus, Mary –“  
“… Joseph.”  
“What?”  
“Thought I’d just add the last of the three names to the equation. You say it often enough.” Mary said, eyes narrowing.   
John actually found this a bit funny, and smiled at her. It was the first smile he’d given her in days. Mary smiled weakly back.   
“Mary, look, I’m sorry. It’s just… I hate the clinic. I hate working there. I need to feel my heart beating. And my heart doesn’t beat for pimples and eczema.”  
“I know. But I’ve managed to… Fuck, sorry. Okay, I know, John.”  
John waited for something else to be said, but nothing came from either of them. Despite this slight release of pressure, the air between them was still a bit too tick to be penetrated with regular conversation.   
“I’m off to bed.” Mary said. She left a pause which John, had he been a better man, could have filled with a suggestion of him joining her. But he wasn’t ready for that yet.   
“Night.” he said, and continued with the crossword. 

***

"Thursday?"

Sherlock had texted John with this one-worded message. Despite its lack of content it still said everything. John felt happy.

"Yes! I’ll be there after work."

The week couldn’t go by fast enough. When Thursday finally arrived, John was so much looking forward to seeing Sherlock that he walked around with a big grin on his face. When the clock was one pm, Mary came into his office and announced that they had to close down early, due to maintenance work with the electrical systems in the building.   
“So you can go see your friend sooner.” she added.   
“His name is Sherlock, as you’re very well aware of. Why do you dislike him so much?” John asked.   
“I don’t dislike him. I told you the first time I met him that I like him.”  
“Then what is your problem?” John said as he put his coat on.   
Mary hesitated for a long time before she spoke.   
“It’s the way you are around him. Or even when you’re just talking about him. It seems to me that…”  
“… yes?”  
“… that you care about him a bit too much.”  
“What do you mean by that?” John said, but he knew perfectly well what she meant. It was something he’d debated internally for years, and finally just accepted.   
“It’s like you love him. More than as just a friend.”  
“Well, he is my best friend.”  
“More than that.”  
John knew it was coming, but didn’t know how to respond. He started and finished a sentence several times, before he finally managed to put something decent together.  
“I… There is… hmm… something there. There is. You’re right. But it’s… it’s nothing like… I mean… He’s Sherlock. He has some… I don’t know… magnetism or something. You’re just drawn. That doesn’t mean that I… that I…”  
He couldn’t finish. He had intended to say That doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, but he knew it would have been a lie. He didn’t love her anymore. At least not like before. Mary looked at him. There were tears in her eyes.   
“I’ve known this since the day I met you. No one mourns his best friend for two years. I did accept it though. Because you loved me. But I’m not so sure about that anymore.”  
John looked at her. He knew there were some positive feelings remaining within him in her favour.   
“Do you want us to make it?” Mary asked. “Can we give it another try?”  
“For Lily’s sake.” John answered blunt.   
“Yeah, for hers too. How about a little date tomorrow then? Maybe we can talk a bit.”  
“Okay.”  
“Good. Have a nice time at Sherlock’s.”   
Mary turned on her heels and walked out of his office.  
John followed suit after two minutes and headed for Baker Street. 

The front door was open as always, and as he entered he heard loud opera music coming from Sherlock’s apartment. It sounded like Pavarotti. John guessed that Sherlock was busy with some crazy experiment that required him to tune out the rest of the world with loud music. This was new behaviour though. Usually he could just tune everything out on his own accord. John ascended the stairs, and didn’t bother to knock on the door. As loud as the music was, Sherlock wouldn’t hear him anyway. He was four hours early, after all. He entered the apartment and was shocked to see what he saw. Leaning over John’s old chair were Sherlock and Daniel from the Elephant Theatre, both completely nude, Sherlock’s cock buried deep within Daniel. Even over the loud music, John could hear them moaning and shouting each other’s names. Sherlock had his hands on Daniel’s hips and was fucking him so hard, John thought it looked like it was hurting him. But by the sounds of it, it clearly wasn’t. John was shocked at first. So shocked he couldn’t move. Suddenly he became aware that the sight of Sherlock this way had made him harder than he’d even been. His own cock was pulsating within his jeans. It was extremely uncomfortable. With his eyes still fixed on the action before him he absent-mindedly opened his zip, withdrew his cock from his pants and started stroking it with force. He was so turned on he could barely breathe, and as Sherlock picked up speed in front of him, hammering into Daniel with all his might, John followed suit.   
“Christ, Sherlock!” Daniel cried, and John was aware that they both came simultaneously, their shouts growing even louder.   
“Daniel, you’re so intelligent!” Sherlock cried as he came, then fell over the chair and collapsed on top of Daniel. John couldn’t help it, he couldn’t hold his orgasm back, and he came all over himself and didn’t manage to keep his voice from cracking as it happened. The little sound he made was enough to startle the two men before him, despite the music, and Sherlock turned around and looked straight into John’s eyes. John froze for a second, cock still in his hand, and Sherlock looked at him with pure shock. John finally realized what was happening, and he turned on the spot and ran down the stairs, his heart beating with the speed of a racing car. He heard Sherlock’s voice behind him.   
“John!”   
But he was too embarrassed, too shocked and, also he realized, too hurt to be there at this moment. He couldn’t cope with it. He jumped into the first taxi he saw, and as it drove away he saw Sherlock standing in the entrance to Baker Street in his blue dressing gown, and John felt his heart sink to his knees. 

Mary looked like a question mark when John came in the door. He held his jacket in front of his sweater so that she wouldn’t notice the stain of dried semen on it.   
“What’s going on?” she asked puzzled.   
“It appears Sherlock has a boyfriend.” John said, trying to sound as casual as he could, but as he said it out loud he felt a flow of tears press behind his eyes.   
“A boyfriend? Sherlock?”   
“Yeah, seems so. I walked in on them, so… I just left again. Anyways, just going to change out of these clothes. Been in them all day.” John said, went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He wasn’t in the mood for a shower, but he was afraid Mary might hear him cry so he turned on the water and got into it. He couldn’t believe this. He knew instantly that this was nothing like the pro-forma relationship with Janine. He’d seen Sherlock and Daniel having sex, quite hardcore sex, and even Sherlock wouldn’t do that for a case. Besides, he’d told John that the case was solved. His stomach was filled with all kinds of negative emotions, Sadness, confusion, anger, but most of all jealousy. He was flat out jealous. Sherlock was his. He wanted Sherlock. No one else should be allowed to have him. They belonged together. At least he thought so. He showered and cried for about twenty minutes, turned off the water and got out. Then he heard voices from the living room. It was Mary laughing and – his heart made a somersault – Sherlock. Also laughing. John looked in the mirror, saw his sad reflection and tried to do something about his appearances. Put on a perfume, a t-shirt, sweater and his finest trousers (seriously, this is pathetic, he thought) and opened the bathroom door. Sherlock and Mary were sitting at the kitchen table. As John and Sherlock made eye contact there was a moment when everything went silent, until Sherlock broke it.  
“Hi John.”  
“Erhm… hi.”  
“Sherlock just told me he needs you for a case.” Mary said.  
“Oh? Is that what you were laughing about?”  
“No, we were laughing about you walking in on me and Daniel.” Sherlock said, and for a moment John was scared that he’d told Mary about John’s participation in that moment as well, but he knew Sherlock well enough to know that even he wasn’t that tactless.   
“Yeah, that was… something.” John said, forcing a smile.   
“Anyway, we need to leave now, there’s trouble in Camden.” Sherlock said, gave Mary a quick hug and left the apartment along with John.   
“How long will you be?” Mary called after them.   
“No idea, might take a while.” Sherlock called back before John closed the door. 

Sherlock was walking two steps in front of John and they didn’t talk until Sherlock opened a door to a small, invisible Indian restaurant. They entered and Sherlock asked the waiter for a table where they could talk undisturbed. He ordered two Chicken Cormas at the same time, and two glasses of red wine.   
They sat down at the table in a dark corner, which was only lit up by a candle and the light from a chandelier in the centre of the room.   
“So. What’s the case?” John said, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.   
“You know as well as I do that there is no case.” Sherlock replied and looked intensely at John.   
“Oh. Right.”  
Then there was a silence, which lasted until the waiter came with their wine. Sherlock immediately upgraded it to a full bottle.  
“We need to talk.” Sherlock finally said after having emptied his glass in two large gulps.   
“Yeah. I guess…” John said, his face reddening. He wondered if Sherlock could see it in the dim light.   
“I must start with addressing the extremely inappropriate thing that happened back in Baker Street.” Sherlock said, eyes still fixed upon John.  
John’s face was now the shade of sundried tomatoes, and there was no way in hell Sherlock didn’t notice.   
They spoke at the same time:  
“I don’t know what happened. It was like I couldn’t control myself.”  
“You shouldn’t have run when I called after you.”  
“Wait, what?” John asked.   
“I called after you. You ran away. Why did you do that?”  
John was taken aback. Sherlock wasn’t annoyed by John’s masturbation. He was annoyed by the fact that he’d left.   
“I… As I said. The thing that I did… When I saw you… and… (He couldn’t make himself say Daniel’s name)… yeah… it was a reaction to a lot of things… and when you saw me standing there like some perverted freak… I felt so ashamed, so I just ran.”  
“Hmm.” Sherlock sighed and looked into the flame of the candle on the table. They went silent again for a little while.  
“It was just… It was so strange seeing you do that… with some guy.”  
“His name is Daniel.”  
“Whatever.”  
“Pardon?”  
“Is his name really that significant?”  
“As you may have noticed, I’ve acquired myself a boyfriend, so yes, it is.” Sherlock said with a hint of anger in his voice.  
John looked up at him at the word boyfriend. So he truly was his boyfriend then. John felt something tight sting behind his eyes.   
“Congratulations…” he muttered, not being able to look at Sherlock.   
“That is the most insensitive comment you’ve ever served me.” Sherlock said sounding hurt.   
“Yeah, well…” John didn’t know what to say.   
“What the hell, John?” Sherlock said, and now he was truly angry. “I’ve endured your dating throughout the years, yeah, well, I might not have liked your random selection of women all that much, but I sure as hell stood by you when Mary came into the picture. Even after she shot me, I stood by you both. And now you can’t even be happy on my behalf when I’m giving you similar news about my relationship status?”  
“Well, it was a shock.”  
“It shouldn’t be shocking anymore.”  
Silence again. Until John spoke.  
“Are you happy then?”  
“I’m very content, thank you.” Sherlock said and moved his eyes away from John.  
“That doesn’t sound like happy to me.”  
“Well, if you can’t be happy for me, why should I be happy for me?” Sherlock said, even louder now, but still in a fairly civilized tone.   
John knew this was the moment to confront Sherlock with his feelings. With the feelings he’d told Mary he’d had forever.  
“Sherlock…”  
“And one more thing. You stood in my doorway jerking off like some sex-crazed teenager, an act I have yet not commented upon. But why, John? As long as I’ve known you, you’ve said to everyone you’ve ever met, you even told the newspaper guy on the corner once, that you are not gay. So why this sexual response to me having sex?”  
“Sherlock…” John tried again, and this time he was not interrupted. “I guess I’ve been claiming heterosexuality to everyone to cover up… hmm… to cover up the feelings I’ve had for you since the very first day.”  
“What?” Sherlock said hushed.   
John took a deep breath.  
“I love you.”   
There. He’d finally said it. After all this time. He might not have truly realized it until recently, but he knew that it had been the truth since the start. John sought out Sherlock’s eyes, but they were buried in the table. Sherlock’s held his hand around the coffee cup so tightly that his knuckles became white. John reached out to touch it, but as their fingers met, Sherlock jerked his hand away and stood up.   
“Why the hell do you say this to me now?” he said so loudly that everyone in the restaurant turned around to watch. Sherlock was far away from self-awareness at this point, and John had only heard him speaking to him like this one time; back home in Baker Street during Moriarty’s Reichenbach fall game.   
“I thought you should know.”  
Sherlock didn’t answer; he just stood up and left the restaurant without even having paid. John ran after him.   
“Sherlock!” Sherlock kept marching down the pavement.   
“Sherlock! Now you’re the one who is running when I’m calling your name!”  
This made Sherlock stop, turn and speak..   
“Now you’re telling me. After all this time.”  
“Why are you reacting like this? You’re obviously in love with Daniel anyway. I just thought you should know.” John said puzzled, and he was astounded that he could speak so freely about this highly emotional subject.   
“And people call me an emotionally unavailable sociopath.” Sherlock said. “You’ve ruined everything, John.”  
Sherlock bent his head down and covered it with his hands. His large, beautiful hands. John didn’t quite know what to say or do until he realized that Sherlock was actually crying.   
“Jesus, Sher… What did I do?”  
“You… you said you love me.” Sherlock sniffed, his face still covered by his hands.   
“Yeah, and you’ve got a boyfriend, so shouldn’t I be the one to do most of the crying? Which, by the way, I’ve done already.”  
“I waited for you.” Sherlock said and looked up. His eyes were already a bit swollen and red. “I waited and waited. Waited for you to come around.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Sherlock took a deep breath.  
“I’ve waited all my life for the right person to come along. I’d already come to think that there wouldn’t be anyone for me out there, but then you turned up. I fell in love with you right from the start.”  
Every cell in John’s body did a somersault at these words. He flinched, couldn’t move a muscle, his whole body went completely numb, except for the part behind his chest, which ached horribly. Sherlock had been in love with him right from the start. Just like John had been in love with Sherlock. There were a million things that John wanted to say, a million things he wanted to do, but this was Sherlock’s moment. So he waited.   
“However, as our friendship progressed you made it perfectly clear that you were not interested in me or in men in any way, at least not on a level more intimate than the one we were already on.” Sherlock continued. At these words John wanted to hit himself with a brick, because he was the biggest arse in England, probably the entire world, but he still did not say anything.   
“You may have picked up during our visit to Buckingham Palace that I was one hundred percent inexperienced in the sexual area? Well, Mycroft may have implied that it was because sex frightened me, but the truth is, I didn’t find sex itself all that interesting, unless it was with someone I loved. And up until you I’ve never loved anyone. So there never was a moment for it. And with your strict heterosexuality the little window I had came and went too. I waited, waited for any sign, but when you got married, and when you decided to stay with her after the shooting I closed that door. And then I met Daniel during the case in the theatre, and we kind of got along, he was flirting with me from the very beginning, and with you off and away in your married, domestic life, I felt alone in a way I’ve never felt alone before. So I started seeing Daniel. And it’s been nice.”  
Sherlock’s long speech was over. John was shivering with emotion. Tears were running down his cheeks. He wasn’t worthy of even having this conversation with Sherlock. He’d denied them both a true partnership. Because of his insecurity, shame and fear, he’d kept on rejecting Sherlock as anything more than a friend, not knowing that by doing this he also hidden the truth. The truth being that they love each other.   
He took a step closer and put his hand on Sherlock’s. This time he didn’t move it, but he didn’t seem all that comfortable either.   
“But… If you love me… if you still do that is… isn’t the road ahead very clear?” John tried and hoped with all his might that Sherlock would respond the right way. Sherlock didn’t respond at all. He looked up at the sky instead. John raised his other hand and put it on Sherlock’s chin, pulled him downward, so far that their lips could touch. As they did John felt everything inside him do salsa dances. There were giant waves of emotion filling him from top to bottom; he could feel the warmth from the kiss in his very fingertips. It felt so right to finally be able to do this. After a while they broke apart. John looked into Sherlock’s blue eyes for a sign that he felt the same way that he did. They were impossible to interpret.   
“John. That was nice.”  
“Yeah, it was great!”  
“But I can’t.”  
“Wait… what?”  
“I don’t think you understand the significance of my sacrifice. I waited my entire life to find someone to love. I waited and waited. But you were too late, John. You chose Mary before me. You chose all those women before me. I’m the very last choice in your line. That’s not love. That’s cowardice. So now I’m choosing Daniel before you.”  
Sherlock let himself out of John’s grip, and took a step back.  
“No! Sherlock! We can do this. You and I. We belong together. You know we do.” John heard the desperation in his own voice. “Please! Sherlock!”  
“I’m sorry.” Sherlock said and walked away.   
“Sherlock!”  
But no response came, and John saw the long, black coat of Sherlock’s grow smaller and smaller as it drifted further and further away.


End file.
